


rumspringa

by lettersinthesand



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, amish!freddie, amish!roger, bri is kinda an asshole, freddie is that bitch, not really a happy ending tho, roger deserves the world, starts off really sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 07:54:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18069533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersinthesand/pseuds/lettersinthesand
Summary: rum·spring·a         [ro͝omspriNGə]        (n.)in some Amish communities, a period of adolescence in which boys and girls are given greater personal freedom and allowed to form romantic relationships, usually ending with the choice of baptism into the church or leaving the community.When a sixteen-year-old Amish named Roger meets a so-called Brian May in the "English World" during his Rumspringa, can they seriously have a happy ending when Roger's beliefs push their relationship to be against the odds?





	rumspringa

**Author's Note:**

> buckle up girls and gays, we're in for a ride!

**_"I never imagined I could do something like this to a person. I guess sometimes it's best to stay home." a tall curly-haired brunet man stated, taking a sip of his coffee and crossing his long legs._ **

 

**_The interviewer in front of him nodded, looked at her teleprompter and spoke into her microphone. "Are you saying you regret having any kind of interaction with him or his own people?"_ **

 

July was well advanced, almost finished.

 

Roger, a young Amish teenage boy, had just reached age sixteen.

 

He was the eldest child of a family of seven children — although he would never admit it Clare was his favorite sibling — and being not only the eldest, but also the only boy meant that he was the one his pregnant mother would rely on to help her to raise his six sisters.

 

At age fourteen, Roger had left school, like every other fourteen-year-old Amish and started helping his parents, Michael, a short and bearded tough man, and Winifred, a sweet woman who was never seen without her white bonnet.

 

Every morning, Roger would milk the cows on his own before getting the fresh eggs out of the hen house, all dressed in his pine green shirt, his black trousers held by suspenders and his long blond hair combed by his straw hat.

 

Even if he would never admit it to his parents in fear of being made fun of, there was this particular hen he loved very much. He had simply named her Hinkel, which literally meant 'chicken' in his mother tongue, Pennsylvania Dutch.

 

Yes, the Taylor family, like many others, was speaking different languages.

 

Pennsylvania Dutch at home, symbolic of their Amish identity, High German at church, as their bibles, their verses and the Ausbund, the Amish songbook, were written in it, and English, taught to children from first grade on and mostly used to communicate with the non-Amish, the 'English World' as Roger's mother called it.

 

Hinkel was special to the teenage boy. She was the oldest hen and he had always known her. They were the same age and it was rare for a hen to live that long. He had a very special bond with her.

 

When his siblings were at school, and he had no chores to accomplish, Roger loved to spend hours inside the hen house. Recognizing him, all the hens would approach him as fast as they could, knowing it was their feeding time. However, as soon as there was no food left in the boy's hand, they would all go away as quickly as they had come. All but Hinkel.

 

This was his world.

 

His little, but complete world with its Amish buggies, old-fashioned way of life and everything that goes with it.

 

Instead of dreaming of fast and shining cars like most sixteen-year-old boys would, he was dreaming of something much more uncommon.

 

His Rumspringa.

 

To Amish teenagers, Rumspringa was the opportunity to explore the English world.

 

This rite of passage, that would usually start at age sixteen and end when the teenager would finally decide to either quit their family and leave or to get baptized within the Amish community, could last a year as much as it could last decades.

 

However, no one was forcing Roger, or anyone else, to go out in the English world, drink or even smoke. Of course not.

 

It wasn't the same in every Amish community, but it was how things were in Roger's.

 

There was one thing that scared the boy to death, though.

 

He was different.

 

He had found himself looking a little bit too long at the neighbor's son.

 

Soon enough he had thus found out that he was most likely homosexual, and no matter how supportive his parents could be, coming out would force him to leave.

 

He wasn't ready yet. So he kept it to himself.

 

But it was until Roger met this tall dorky curly-haired teenage boy...

 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

For his first weekend of Rumspringa, Roger decided to party with other Amish teenagers on theirs.

 

He really didn't ask many questions, he just rode with them in their Amish buggy and to the basement that was lent to them. On the way, they had traded their traditional clothes for much more comfortable and modern ones.

 

When they arrived at the destination, they all sat on the cemented ground around a square glass table already littered with beers.

 

They all were underage, but that was one of those time where they couldn't care less.

 

Rumspringa was once in a lifetime and they were determined to enjoy it to its fullest.

 

And right there, the curly-haired teenager came into the picture.

 

"Oh, hi! I’m glad you found so easily!" he exclaimed, raising his skinny arms in the air in an attempt to greet everyone. "I'm Brian, nice to meet you all!"

 

Soon enough, people who didn't know each other minutes ago were happily chatting, laughing and dancing together.

 

Roger didn't really listen though, as he was too busy remembering every single little details of this so-called Brian.

 

He knew he wouldn't have the chance to see the brunet again, so he wanted to keep a clear mental image of him.

 

Everything from that night was blurry and granted, the alcohol was most likely to blame as Roger had drunk quite a few beers. The only thing he could remember precisely was Brian's beauty.

 

The blond actually didn’t remember much from the party as he had slept through its entirety. He was tired and honestly, he could've slept longer if it wasn't for the discomfort of the hard floor.

 

"I should go." he remembered telling Brian, still in a half-asleep state.

 

The curly-haired brunet just laughed, explaining him slowly, as to not overwhelm him, that all of his friends were already gone and that it was just the two of them now.

 

"We tried everything to wake you up honestly." Brian added with a chuckle. "But they needed to go home and you were still sleeping and I don’t mind you staying the night so uh… yeah.” Seeing an ounce of hesitation cross the blond’s face, Brian ran a hand through his curls, his mind racing. “I will take you home first thing in the morning, though!”

 

Neither of them spoke for a moment. They just stared at each other in a comfortable silence for long minutes, their eyes locked.

 

"You're really pretty Rog."

 

Rog?

 

That changed from the conventional and boring 'Roger'. He liked it.

 

“But- But... I’m desperately in need of a haircut, my hair is so messy whereas yours is so elegant and my clothes are way too out of fashion and I-” Brian shushed him by putting a finger on his lips. Roger took a deep breath. "Is it okay if I find you pretty too?" he then asked, unsure if it was an acceptable thing to think, let alone ask.

 

Brian took his hand and helped him to stand up. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

 

"I don't know. Once there was this Amish boy who lived near my house and when his parents found out he liked another boy in secret, they made him leave." Roger explained, playing with his fingers nervously as he remembered his neighbor.

 

"Oh." Brian punctuated awkwardly, not really knowing what to answer. "Well... it's okay."

 

"Are you... homosexual?" Roger asked hesitantly. He didn't know if it was somehow an acceptable question.

 

"I don't like to label myself, but I do like boys..." Brian nodded. "Are you gay?"

 

"I cannot really tell since I was asleep for most of the party, but I am quite happy with tonight, yes."

 

Brian squinted his eyes, trying to understand Roger's train of thoughts. When he finally did, he burst out laughing. "Oh Rog, that's not what I meant! I was asking if you were into men too."

 

Roger felt a heavy blush cover his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it could mean that too. It's not exactly what they taught us in English class. We were taught some basics for business but that's it." Roger noticed Brian staring at him and realized he still hadn't answered. "Um... I guess? Yes, most likely."

 

Brian chuckled and approached the young Amish, who was now frowning. "Hey, I wasn't making fun of you earlier. You know... when I laughed and stuff… you're just... adorable."

 

"Thank you?" Roger answered quietly, his eyebrows raised and his expression puzzled.

 

Suddenly, and before his brain got time to compute what was happening, he was kissing Brian's lips.

 

He just wanted to try. He just  _ had to _ .

 

He wouldn't see Brian ever again. He just had one night. One chance.

 

After a few seconds, Brian finally comprehended the situation and backed away, a bit dazed.

 

"Wait I’m sorry this too quick." the curly-haired boy whispered. "We only met like, hours ago!"

 

"But- You're nice, and really... Handsome. We won't see each other again after tonight.. And- a part of me wants to kiss you again... Just to remember how it feels and-” the blond babbled.

 

A slight smile drew on Brian’s face as he took Roger’s hand. "Rog. We will see each other again. I promise. I'll find a way."

 

And just like that, although he was doubtful, Roger nodded and gave him a tiny smile.

 

They spent the night talking, laying on Brian's bed, Roger telling him all about his Amish life, and how he always talked to his hen, Hinkel, about his problems. As stupid as it could sound, he felt like he could tell her whatever he wanted, without any taboo, and even if it was about some cute looking boys: his hen wouldn't mind, unlike his parents.

 

Brian listened carefully, and when Roger seemed saddened, he subconsciously tightened his arms around the smaller boy’s waist.

 

Being a closeted gay Amish teenage boy wasn't the easiest thing in the world.

 

By the time dawn broke, both of the boys hadn't slept as conversations and words had filled their heads instead of dreams.

 

Looking at the sky through a window, Brian, though he would have enjoyed some more time with Roger, decided it was time to take him home.

 

The car ride was mostly silent, and as soon as they arrived to Roger’s home, Brian gave him a tiny ‘ _ For Rog, call whenever you want xx - Bri’  _ piece of paper with his phone number.

 

Sure, Roger didn't have a phone, but there were definitely some phone booths not too far away that could make this all work.

 

The blond thanked Brian, exited the car and his eyes followed his modern automobile until it was out of view.

 

And he was back at being Roger. Not Rog. Just Roger.

 

Although he thought about him every day, Roger didn't see nor talk to Brian for two whole months.

 

However, one day, as he was walking to the hen house like he had done so many times before, he noticed how still Hinkel was as compared to the others. He approached the hen slowly and when his fingers touched the feathers, the tiny animal fell to the floor, obviously lifeless.

 

Hinkel, the hen he had always known, his favorite, his confidant in a way, had passed away.

 

Roger felt tears brimming at his eyes as he ran to his bedroom, shutting the door before collapsing on his bed and bursting into sobs.

 

And he cried and cried and cried.

 

Most people would have probably found him stupid. But this hen was just like his pet and... he loved Hinkel.

 

Roger's long hair were glued to his face due to his salt tears and he groaned in frustration.

 

Through his blurry vision, he could still discern a familiar piece of paper hidden under his pillow.

 

It was Brian's. Brian's number.

 

Roger took the paper in his thin hands and ran out of his house, hustling his father in the meantime.

 

When he reached the phone booths, he jumped into one and entered Brian's number. After a few rings, he finally picked up.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Brian? B-Brian, can you p-pick me up?"

 

"Roger? Are you okay?"

 

"Please."

 

"Don’t move. I’m on my way."

 

And the call ended.

 

Inside the booth, Roger could hear his father calling his name, but he wasn’t planning on coming home anytime soon. He needed to clear his mind. To stop his pitiful tears that was causing him a headache. To take a damn breath if he didn’t want to pass out.

 

Brian was there. Already?

 

Roger hurried into the car and the composure he had tried to gain threatened to fall when the brunet bent to kiss his cheek.

 

"Are you okay, Rog? You sounded kind of off on the phone."

 

Roger seriously considered telling him he was alright, but the nickname made his bottom lip wobble and his act fell, just like his tears.

 

He cried again as he explained Brian everything while the brunet was driving and of course, the latter couldn't stop himself from taking one of the blond’s hands into his own.

 

That day, Brian took Roger to a hair salon, hoping the haircut the blond had mentioned on their first meeting would make him smile.

 

The blond did smile seeing his new shorter-but-still-kind-of-long hair and caressing it. However, sadness didn’t leave his fogged eyes.

 

Brian made a decision. Roger could stay with him as long as he wanted with him and the brunet told him so.

 

He stayed three days.

 

The second day, Brian was the one to kiss Roger. It was quick, still. But it was like in one of those summer movies Roger had never seen where nothing can go wrong. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough.

 

Brian even took pictures of them together with his Polaroid camera so Roger could bring them home and remember those moments.

 

On the third day, Roger woke up alone, and felt an emptiness in his chest. It was rapidly filled with joy when he discovered a chicken stuffy next to him. He hugged it tightly and even let a few tears fall when he saw Brian watching him from the doorframe with a fond smile on his face. 

 

And finally, Roger felt ready to go.

 

Back home, he got punished by his parents, which was totally predictable.

 

But Roger was happy nonetheless. He had his stuffy. He had his pictures.

 

Oh the pictures...

 

The same ones his mother discovered one morning before showing them to his father.

 

The same ones that accidentally outed him.

 

The same ones he was called a sinner for.

 

The same ones that got him expelled from his community, his family, three days before Christmas.

 

The same ones that got him homeless, because, yes, Brian had not picked up the phone any of the ninth times Roger had called.

 

And for weeks he was there, in the cold English world, sleeping on the snow-covered floor with his hen stuffy for only company.

 

Roger stopped calling after a while. He stopped calling when he saw Brian passing right by him without any reaction. If he had ignored him on purpose or simply had not recognized him under his beard and greasy hair, the blond would never know. 

 

On the first sunny day of January, he was recognized.

 

Recognized by this boy. The boy that had been expelled just like him years before. His former neighbor.

 

He looked different now. His hair wasn't as curly anymore and it was a lot shorter than it used to be.

 

"Roger?"

 

His voice hadn't change, though. Though he barely knew him, he had heard him sing religious songs pretty often and his voice was certainly one of a kind.

 

"Farrokh?"

 

“It’s Freddie now, dear.”

 

And from that moment on, he was there.

 

Roger had moved in with him, learned to know him, and they had comforted each other mutually through hard times.

 

When Roger had been uncomfortable thinking about Brian every time he would look at his semi-long hair, Freddie had shaved it all off for him.

 

When he wondered about his mother and his probably newborn sibling he would most likely never get to meet, Freddie just kept on promising he would hear from them somehow.

 

Or when Freddie had very bad days that would involve a lot of screams and tears, Roger made sure he was by his side every moment.

 

He was there for him and vice versa.

 

That was life his now.

 

**_The brunet man scoffed and shook his head, his eyes squinting a bit. "Of course not. It was life-changing. But I needed to move on. I couldn't wait for him my whole life."_ **

 

**_The interviewer looked at him a moment before throwing on a fake smile and looking straight into the camera. "Thank you Brian May for this exclusive interview. And again, congratulations on your best-selling novel 'Amish love'."_ **

 

The TV was turned off.

 

"Asshole." a tiny blond, shaved man muttered under his breath as he threw his once-so-beloved beloved stuffed hen in a trash can.

 

He checked his letterbox for the fourth time that day, in vain. 

 

Nothing.

 

He had not heard from his family for weeks, months even.

 

He had been forced to quit his community, his Rumspringa cut short and his decision taken away from him. He had been forced to leave everything for Brian when the curly-haired man hadn't even chosen him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> oooof not a cute move bri. 
> 
> anYwaY! hope you enjoyed reading rumspringa as much as i enjoyed writing it!
> 
> this is my first work here so comments and kudos are appreciated :)


End file.
